


Mother

by quicksparrows



Series: Side by Side – Chrobin [26]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:21:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9600953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksparrows/pseuds/quicksparrows
Summary: Chrom asks about his mother at the dinner table; Frederick reluctantly shares a few details.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a bit from Four Hundred Days, but it was cut at some point, so I repurposed it. :)

.

 

They're having dessert some weeks after their return to Ylisse when Chrom jumps upon a lapse in conversation.

"Frederick," Chrom asks, and curiosity is heavy on his voice. "What was my mother like?"

Frederick pauses; Ada watches his expression move from surprised to contemplative. He favours the question for a moment, as if it might be more savory if he just rolls it around on his tongue for a moment first. Around the table, all eyes are on him.

"She was a very beautiful woman," Frederick replies, finally.

"Hmm," Chrom hums, mildly disappointed, but he shrugs it off. 

"Oh, that's cold," Ada says.

Both Frederick and Chrom look to Ada, and she feels a little bit chastened for the look on Frederick's face.

"What do you mean?" Chrom asks her, before Frederick can.

"I've never heard you refer to someone by their appearance before, Frederick," Ada offers, "but what you remember of her is how she looked?"

"I don't mean to disparage her," Frederick replies. "But yes, Ada. I see what you are suggesting. Milord, I assure you she had many respectable qualities. Forgive me for speaking so carelessly."

Hurt flickers on Chrom's heart, but his curiosity wins out.

"It's alright," he says. "But go on, Frederick. I have no memory of her to tarnish."

"It's true that Sylvie wasn't a terribly warm woman," Frederick says. "She loved you and your sisters, and she made that clear, but she wasn't much interested in being a mother. When she could place the bulk of childrearing on the shoulders of others, on nurses and servants and myself –– when _you_ were born, milord –– then she did so without hesitation."

He leans back in his seat, elbows on the armrests, hands steepled together.

"Of course, there was no shortage of gifts and fine clothes and splendid little ponies, but you were most delighted when she permitted you to sit upon her lap."

Ada feels her own inward disappointment at this, and she looks to Chrom, who meets her eyes with a surprising passivity, a careful shrug. Years ago, when he'd first spoken of his father to her, he'd had the same look. There was little to be proud of. They'd spoken about his mother, too, some time later, but he hadn't said much beyond the circumstances of her death. 

Ada hadn't pried further. They now both share an odd comfort in being orphans.

"I think one of my only memories of her is doing just that," Chrom says. "I remember one of the ponies, too. That mean little thing bucked me right off."

"It wasn't broken well enough," Frederick agrees. "She chose it for its golden coat rather than its suitability for riding, so I had to break it myself. My legs were long enough to grip it 'round the middle, so it couldn't toss me."

Chrom laughs, short but pleasant.

"I remember that. Or at least I remember being _told_ that at some point," he says.

Frederick just hums in agreement. There's a beat of silence between the three of them, and save for the sound of forks and knives clinking, it's quiet. Lucina and Morgan are both silent, eyes fixed on their food. Ada looks over to see them both listening intently, and when Morgan raises his eyes, he grows sheepish when he meets her gaze. She smiles at him, and he smiles back.

"Well," Frederick says, finally. "What else of Sylvie? She loved her long, blond hair; when she wasn't brushing her own, she brushed Emmeryn's –– Emmeryn would abandon any task or lesson to have her hair brushed by her mother, too." 

"Hmm," Chrom hums. He looks at Lucina. "Like our girl here."

Lucina makes a soft dismissive noise, but she smiles.

Ada watches Frederick roll his lips in thought, exhale long and slow. She wonders how thick the memories flood, or if he'd pushed them all aside in favour of later years.

"She loved parties; she'd want roasted peacocks and suckling pigs, and she would stay up dancing," he says, finally. "There were many times I carried you in one arm as a babe down to the great hall, Emmeryn by the other hand, just so the two of you had a hope of getting a kiss goodnight before bed. She would kiss you both upon your forelocks and try to coax me into letting the two of you stay, to show you off to the partygoers."

"While a war raged on," Lucina remarks.

Frederick nods, solemnly.

"While the war raged on," he repeats.


End file.
